


The Power to Give

by DoreyG



Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: Accidental Stimulation, ChocolateBox 2016, Developing Relationship, Light BDSM, M/M, Multi, Trapped In A Closet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-18
Updated: 2016-01-18
Packaged: 2018-05-14 19:04:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5754727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DoreyG/pseuds/DoreyG
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“This,” he squeaks breathlessly, trying not to wriggle too much, “is awkward.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Power to Give

**Author's Note:**

  * For [WildAndFreeHearts](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WildAndFreeHearts/gifts).



“This,” he squeaks breathlessly, trying not to wriggle too much, “is awkward.”

And he will be honest here, it _really_ is. It was meant to be a simple maintenance job, a quick repair of a faulty conduit that required two people to tidy up the tangled wiring and one steady handed other (android, person, man? He’s had nightmares about referring to Data in the wrong way, and they’re hardly going to stop now) to lift out the faulty part. But somebody pressed a button or flicked a switch, or moved in the wrong way – and now the three of them are trapped here, pressed together so tightly that there’s little room to hide.

It was probably his fault. It usually seems to be his fault, that’s just the way that the universe works.

“Reg,” Geordi says softly. And then, a little more impatient as he closes his eyes and hopes that his cursing of the universe isn’t too obvious, “ _Reg_. Calm down. We’re probably going to be out of here in no time.”

“It was doubtlessly just a faulty piece of wiring, exacerbated by human error. The engineering section is very efficient, they will soon realize that something has gone wrong and remove us from our predicament,” Data backs him up almost cheerfully, as he always does. He can’t turn to face him, but he can imagine the bright expression of certainty clear on his face even now, “there is really no reason to panic.”

Yeah, that’s easy enough for them to say. Neither of them have been shoved into a tiny – and he means _tiny_ \- space with the two guys they’ve secretly had a crush on for years now. This is probably just an ordinary day for them – get trapped, respond cheerfully, completely fail to develop crushes on their colleagues and-slash-or superiors. Life is always great for these two, on the USS Enterprise!

“...Reg?”

And now he’s obviously looking like a fool, great. He takes in as deep a breath as he can, considering the fact that his throat is trying to close up, and attempts to look at least vaguely competent, “I’m fine. I just... Don’t like enclosed spaces much.”

“Hm,” Geordi mutters. And he really must be imagining the concern in his voice, such feeling couldn’t possibly be for him, “well, maybe we can do something about that.”

“I- you really don’t have to,” he says, a touch apologetically, and tries his very hardest to hold still. It’s slightly pathetic, how even the smallest hint of kindness and proximity can bring him to a state of hardness and he really doesn’t want to bring more attention to it than he has to, “I’ll try to be more professional about it, honestly. Don’t mind-“

“We are all aware that anxiety does not work like that, Mr Barclay,” Data interrupts, shifts behind him. It’s just the slightest move, the smallest delicate twist, but it’s enough to make his problem even worse, “there should be service tunnels nearby. With the correct application of force, we should be able to discover them and create a far more comfortable environment to wait in until a rescue party arrives to free us.”

“Oh,” he offers weakly, and resists the urge to close his eyes, “you really don’t have to, I’m sure I’ll be absolutely-“

“Reg. As your commanding officer, I am ordering you to be quiet,” Geordi huffs, and sends an almost exasperated glance over his shoulder. No, a completely exasperated one – because he’s doubtlessly imagining the brief touch of fondness he thought he saw there, “any idea how many of these service tunnels there are, Data?”

“Three, according to the blueprints,” a brief silence, a soft period of thought as he shifts steadily more uncomfortably between them, “one is above our heads, however, and so can be considered irrelevant. As for the other two... One should be behind me and stretch from my feet to the level of my hips. The other should be behind you, and stretch _from_ your hips and up to the ceiling. Both may require some pressure to access, but should not be too difficult beyond that.”

And he really wants to protest. He _really_ does, but.. Well, they both look so authoritative and it’s something close to hypnotising. All he can do is remain silent, and bite his lip instead.

“Well, that’s something,” Geordi says, huffs a cheerful sigh and braces himself, “ready?”

“Yes, Geordi.”

And so, as he shakes between them, they start pushing. Data presses forward against his back to try and get traction against the wall, Geordi presses forward against his front to try and do the same. They push and they rub and they brush so close against him, with such endless focus, that it’d take an absolute saint to resist... And he’s never been a saint. He’s just a slightly silly man, pressed together in   
a closet with the two people he’s been secretly longing after for years now.

He knows the moment Geordi realizes, and stills against him. A long few seconds of silence, and then Data peers over his shoulder and also stills against him. Staring down with fascination, at the clear evidence of his arousal pressed up against Geordi’s leg.

“It appears,” Data says almost cheerfully, after the longest few seconds of his life have gone by in miserable silence, “that the service tunnels are not the only things we have discovered, Geordi.”

“Um,” he offers, and barely resists his urge to close his eyes against the shame. Against the inevitable disapproval and disgust, that are going to be spreading over Geordi’s face at any moment now. Any moment now, any moment... “I-“

“Shut up, Reg,” Geordi orders, and... Smiles. So bright in the darkness of the closet that it’s like the sun coming up, bright and hot and totally unexpected in the cold of the midwinter, “and let _us_ do the talking.”

And suddenly, for the first time, it occurs to him that maybe getting trapped wasn’t such a bad thing after all.


End file.
